"You _do_ look ill, Ida," she said submitting her cheek to a kiss, "and more than twice your age. Miss Hest, what have you been doing with her?" "Trying to comfort her," replied Frances drily. "But you can scarcely expect an affectionate girl like Ida to lose her father and not show some signs of grief." "Signs of fiddlestick, if you will excuse the expression. It's want of food and cheerful company, to say nothing of living in this vault." "Thank you, Lady Corsoon. I find the house of my ancestors very comfortable." "I think not," replied the visitor rudely. "Quaint, as I have already observed, old-world and interesting to an antiquarian, but I don't think anyone could call this comfortable. However, this state of things, so far as Ida is concerned, can be easily remedied. Ida, child, I have come to take you to the Grange, which stands in a much more healthy position." Ida, who had saluted her cousin and Vernon, turned even paler than she already was and looked sideways at Frances. "I think that I prefer to remain in this house," she said timidly. "Oh, you must not burden Miss Hest any longer," said her aunt coolly. "Ida's company is no burden to me," snapped Miss Hest, who seemed to be trying to keep her temper, "but if she chooses to leave me, she can." "I should think so; as she is free to come and go as she wishes. Ida?" "I would rather stop with Frances," said Ida faintly, and again sought the eye of her friend, as if seeking direction. "We are very happy here." "Miss Hest, I appeal to you," cried Lady Corsoon, looking important. "You can see for yourself that the dear child is like a plant, she wants air and sunlight and every attention." "Ida is free to go and come as she chooses," repeated Frances with a stealthy glance at the girl. "And perhaps it is just as well she should go. I am returning to London in a week or so." "Frances!" Ida started to her feet, and a faint hue tinged her cheek. "You never told me of this." "I never arrived at any decision until last night," replied Frances coldly, removing the arm which the girl had thrown fondly round her neck. "But a search amongst my brother's papers has shown me that my position financially speaking is not so secure as I thought it was. As it is necessary for me to earn my living I must go back to Professor Gail's at Isleworth, and probably I shall agree to his proposal that I should appear on the stage." "But, Frances, I have plenty of money. Share with me." "Ida," said Lady Corsoon sharply, "you must let older and wiser heads guide you as regards the disposition of your fortune. Besides, it may not be so secure as you think." "What?" Ida turned to face her aunt. "Then you already know that I am not Mr. Dimsdale's daughter."